Graham Masterton - The Manitou

"Misquamacus — this is the invisible spirit which struck down your people! I have it here — in this bottle! Close the gateway — send back the Star Beast — or I will release it!"

Somewhere in the back of my brain I heard Singing Rock shouting "Harry — come back!" But the hurricane was too loud, and my adrenalin was pumping too fast, and I knew that if I didn't push Misquamacus to the brink, we might never rid ourselves of the wonder-worker, or his demons, or any of the fearful legacy from a magical past.

But I'm a clairvoyant, not a medicine man, and what happened next was something I just couldn't cope with. I felt something cold and wriggly in the palm of my hand. When I looked up at the vial, it had turned into a black squirming leech. I almost dropped it in disgust — but then a small warning in my mind said it's an illusion, another of Misquamacus's tricks — and I held it tight instead. As I gripped it, though, the wonder-worker outmaneuvered me. The vial appeared to burst into flames, and my brain wasn't fast enough to override my nervous responses and reassure me that this was an illusion, too. I dropped the vial, and it sank slowly toward the floor — unnaturally slowly, like a stone sinking in transparent oil.

Terrified, I tried to turn away and run for the door. But the air was heavy and limpid, and every step was congealed into a massive effort. I saw Singing Rock in the doorway, his hands stretched out toward me, but he seemed to be miles and miles distant, a lifesaver on a shore I couldn't reach.

The writhing, colorless shape of the Star Beast had an irresistible attraction all of its own. I felt myself being physically drawn away from the door and back toward the center of the magic gateway, even though I was using all my strength to try and escape. I saw the vial of influenza virus literally change course in mid-fall, and move through the air toward the Star Beast tumbling and turning like a satellite falling through space.

Intense cold drowned itself over me, and in the dirgelike din of that windless wind, I saw my breath forming clouds of vapor, and stars of frost collecting on my coat. The vial of virus froze into crystals of glass and ice, which rendered it as harmless to Misquamacus as an empty gun.

I turned — I couldn't help turning — to look at the Star Beast behind me. Even though I was struggling across the room away from the gateway, my steps took me no further in the direction of the door. My feet were now only inches away from the chalked circle, and within the center of the circle, the horrifying tangle of disturbed air that constituted the Star Beast was drawing me nearer. Misquamacus, his head lowered and his left arm raised, was intoning a long and deafening chant that appeared to excite the Star Beast even more. The monster was like the shadowy X-ray of a stomach, churning and twitching in digestive peristalsis.

I had been fighting to escape, but the cold was so bitter that it was difficult to think about anything else except how good it would be to get warm. My muscles ached with the frosty clutch of zero degrees and below, and the effort of running through the moaning gale and the oil-thick air was almost beyond me. I knew that I would probably have to surrender, and that whatever Misquamacus had in store for me, I would have to accept I remember I dropped to my knees.

Singing Rock was screaming at me from the doorway. " Harry! " he yelled. " Harry! Don't give up! "

I tried to lift my head to look at him. My neck muscles seemed to be frozen, and the hoar frost on my eyebrows and hair was so thick that I could hardly see anything at all. My hair was laden with frost, and there was a beard of icicles around my nose and mouth, where my breath had frozen. I felt nothing but a distant Arctic numbness, and all I could hear was the terrifying rush of that wind.

"Harry!" screamed Singing Rock. "Harry — move, Harry! Move!"

I raised my hand. I tried to struggle to my feet again. Somehow, I managed to pull myself a few inches away from the gateway, but the Star Beast was far too strong for me, and the magic charms of Misquamacus held me like a weakly flapping fish in a net.

There was an electric typewriter, its keys thick with ice, lying on its side on the floor. It suddenly occurred to me that if I threw something like that at Misquamacus, or maybe at the Star Beast itself, it would give me a few seconds' diversion to pull myself free. That was how little I knew about the powers of occult beings — I was still treating them like cowboys and Indians. I reached out my frostbitten hands and lifted the typewriter up with tremendous effort. It had so much ice on it, it was nearly twice its normal weight.

I turned, I rolled over, and I hurled the typewriter toward the magic gateway and the dim outline of the Star Beast. Like everything else in this occult environment, it flew in a long slow motion arc, turning over and over as it flew, and it seemed to take an age to reach the circle.

I didn't know what was going to happen. I just lay there, frozen stiff and bunched up like a fetus, waiting for the moment when the tumbling typewriter would reach the Beast. I think I closed my eyes; I might even have slept for a moment. When you're freezing cold, all you can think of is sleep, and warmth, and giving in.

The typewriter reached the restless outline of the Star Beast, and then something extraordinary happened. In a glittering burst of metal and plastic, the typewriter exploded, and for a vivid second I saw something within that explosion. It vanished without a trace, but it was like an aggressive disembodied snarl. It had no shape and no form at all, but it left a fading mental image on the back of my eye, like a flash photograph taken in the dark.

The Star Beast cringed. Its serpentine coils and clouds seemed to roll back on themselves, like a ghostly sea anemone. The mournful wind rose and fell in an odd, disturbed shriek, and I knew that if I was ever going to get away, it would have to be now. I heaved myself on to my feet, and scrambled for the door. I didn't look back, but I almost collided with Singing Rock, and the next thing I knew I was sitting blindly in the corridor outside, and the door was firmly shut. Singing Rock was making protective signs on the door to keep Misquamacus temporarily imprisoned.

"You're crazy" said Singing Rock. "You're absolutely crazy!"

I rubbed the melting frost from my hair. "I'm still alive, though. And I did have a go at Misquamacus."

Singing Rock shook his head. "You didn't stand a chance. If I hadn't bombarded Misquamacus with protective spells, you'd have been fried fish by now."

I coughed, and looked up. "I know that, Singing Rock, and thanks. But I still had to try it. Jesus, that Star Beast is so cold. I feel like I just walked twenty miles in a blizzard." Singing Rock stood up and looked through the door. "Misquamacus doesn't seem to be moving. The Beast is gone now. I think it's time we got out of here ourselves."

"What are we going to do?" I asked, as Singing Rock helped me on to my feet. "More to the point — what do you think Misquamacus is going to do?"

Singing Rock shone the flashlight behind us for a brief instant, just to make sure that we weren't being followed. Then he said: "I've got a pretty good idea of what Misquamacus is up to, and I think the best thing we can do is get ourselves out of here. If he's doing what I think he's doing, life is going to become distinctly unhealthy around here."

"But we can't just leave him."

"I don't know what else we can do. He's not making his magic as consistently and strongly as he should, but he's still too powerful to touch."

We walked quickly down the corridors toward the elevator. It was dark and silent on the tenth floor, but our footsteps seemed muffled, like men running on soft grass. I was panting by the time we reached the last corner, and saw the welcome door of the elevator, still open and waiting for us. I dislodged my shoes from the door, and we pressed the button for eighteen. We lay back against the elevator walls in relief, and felt ourselves being carried upward to safety.